The Journey
by MelJones
Summary: After a rough start to life in Albion, OC Claire winds up in Camelot to begin a new life. 'The Journey' opens as Merlin arrives in Camelot City, and follows Claire through the series as she and the people around her grow. This fanfiction focuses primarily on the relationships between the Knights of Camelot, the people they love, and the politics of Albion that aren't shown on TV.
1. Author's Note

Hi!

Just a quick note before we start :)

This story is one of three- _The Arrival, The Journey, _and_ The Destination_. I'm starting in the middle, partly because it's my favourite of the three, and partly because it's the longest, so hopefully, in the time it takes for this to be completed, I'll have completed the other two alongside it and then I can release all their chapters in one. I mean that's the plan anyway. In the meantime, if you have questions about what has happened before this part of the trilogy (or after, if you love spoilers) feel free to message me! It's a work in progress so I might not be able to answer everything but I can try.

I've never written anything like this before, I've never read anything like this before, so I'm hoping it's a refreshing change of pace and not an abhorrent insult to literature as we know it. I mean, what I've tried to do is combine Merlin with the rawness and (for want of a better word) reality that comes from Game of Thrones (there'll be a lot of stolen words- my favourite at the moment is Maester) but I've tried to keep to the themes in the TV show as much as I can. I want to give an new insight into the lives of the Knight's and the people of Camelot, and to explore the world of Albion through the eyes of my OC. I really hope you like my OC or hate her, I often hate her. But that's part of it, watching the way the characters- all the characters- grow.

This instalment starts at the moment that Merlin arrives in Camelot and will finish when he leaves it. Each chapter is an episode, but they've been given original names where I think it works best.

Please, _please_ review! All your criticisms/comments/corrections are very much welcome- I want as much feedback as possible!

I hope you enjoy it, and thanks for reading my blabbering!

- Mel xx


	2. The Wanderer Arrives

"It's the King!"

"There's something happening in the courtyard!"

"Hurry up!"

A herd of children sprinted past me, nearly upending Elen's market stall. I grabbed one of the snotty little youths by the scruff of the neck, stopping him from colliding into an open barrel of tomatoes.

"What on _earth_ is going on?" I demanded of him.

"King Uther! He summoned everyone to the square," the boy, who could be no more than six years old, was speaking rapidly, aching to join his friends. "People say there's talk of a festival!"

"On your way then, kid." I said, releasing his collar and watching him sprint away. He nearly crashed into three separate stalls in his quest to catch up with his companions. "Have you heard anything of this?" I asked Elen.

"No," she shrugged, "but a festival's always good for business. The King's kitchens never have enough fresh produce for a feast." I could hear the hint in her tone, and left for the square promising her that if there was a feast I'd speak to Amicia in the kitchens.

Unsurprisingly, the main courtyard was packed, all faces turned to the King's balcony, where Uther stood clad in a panelled, burgundy tunic, his knight's cape covering his right shoulder and his gold crown and chains catching the sunlight. He stood, regal and kingly, flanked by two of his own guard, the slow, trumpeting horn and steadily measured _thud-thud_ of ceremonial drums hailing his imminent announcement.

I pushed my way further into the crowd, cursing my height for my inability to see over the tops of heads. Fortune was with me, as a particularly fat, balding man moved, clearing my view. In the centre of the square was a raised platform, a stage. It boasted a log, over one foot thick, and a tall man, with a black hood and an axe sharp enough to cut his shadow from the floor.

My brow furrowed. It wasn't commonplace for the horns to be sounded before an execution. Uther had wanted a crowd. Something was different. It was as I concluded that, did I see the offender. Wrists and ankles shackled, he wore tattered clothes, coated in a layer of filth native only to dungeons. I recognised his face but couldn't place it. Perhaps we'd met in passing at the tavern, or I'd sold him wares when Torvyn was otherwise engaged.

The King's voice called my attention, and my gaze shifted from the prisoner to the balcony. "Let this serve as a lesson to all." His voice rang with unvoiced accusation. "This man, Thomas James Collins, is adjudged guilty of conspiring to use enchantments and magic." Several faces turned back to the prisoner, no longer anonymous. My gaze, however, lingered, shifting from Uther to a high window behind him. The Lady Morgana peered out, her face one of undisguised revulsion. I refocused on the King as he continued. "And, pursuant to the laws of Camelot, I, Uther Pendragon, have decreed that such practices are banned on penalty of death. I pride myself as a fair and just king, but for the crime of sorcery, there is but one sentence I can pass." _As if it wasn't apparent. _Uther's armed raised and dropped, signalling the executioner to end the life of Thomas James Collins.

I didn't look. Beheadings were so _crude_. The axe fell with a soft sigh, a wet slice, and disgusted gasps from the crowd. Fools. What had they expected? The body-less head rolled across the stage, stopped by the executioners boot. Once again, the King commanded the eyes of the square back to him, as the offending corpse was removed from view. "When I came to this land," he began, "this kingdom was mired in chaos, but with the people's help, magic was driven from the realm. So, I declare a festival to celebrate twenty years since the Great Dragon was captured, and Camelot freed from the evil of sorcery. Let the celebrations begin."

Cheers rose from the crowd at that, as though they'd all forgotten that a man was beheaded in front of them mere seconds ago. Uther moved to leave his balcony for the warm rooms of the castle. I mimicked him, turning to leave the square and find Elen, let her know that she'd probably be needed, but my head jerked back at the sound of a high, guttural wailing.

A woman, hunched over, face wizened and hair wispy, was stood in the centre of the crowd that had now parted from her. The noise she made wrenched at my heart, but gripped my stomach with alarm. Something was very, very wrong. She wasn't merely grieving, she was dangerous, I knew it. I started to make my way towards her, she was speaking, _screaming_ at Uther, but the words washed over me in incoherency. I pushed through the final barrier of people, drawing my dagger. I heard the King yell for someone to "_Seize her!"_ and made to grab her, but she muttered something to a charm round her neck and, without warning or explanation, vanished.

The force of her enchantment caused me to throw my arms up to face, shielding myself from the vicious, ethereal wind she'd created. As quickly as it had stirred, the wind died. I lowered my hand cautiously, realising that the blade of my dagger was exposed for all to see. Quickly, I stowed it back in its scabbard, looking around, my surprise and confusion mirrored on every face I could see.

Both Uther and Morgana had vanished from view. Most of the townspeople were rushing from the courtyard. I allowed myself to be swept up with them, detaching myself from the crowd when I caught sight of Owain patrolling on one of the battlements above me. It took little time for me to navigate the stairs and corridors that would lead me to join him. I'd barely pushed the door open before I was calling to him.

"_So_. Witch appears out of nowhere, then _vanishes_ and none of the Knights are doing anything."

He crossed to me, eyebrow raised. "And what would you suggest we do? Follow the trail she _didn't_ leave?" He caught me by the arm, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I saw you. Moving towards her, fast as anything, dagger in your hand. Anyone would think you have previous experience."

It didn't take a genius to hear his underlying warning. "Point taken." I muttered back. "I'll be more careful next time. I thought she was going to hurt the King."

"Valiant of you, but evidently you weren't listening." I frowned at him, he licked his lips before explaining. "_'An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, a son for a son.'_? You didn't hear her screaming that at the King? If she means to hurt anyone, it will be Arthur." My stomach knotted at that. Arthur was a pretentious dick at the best of times, but he didn't deserve to die for his Father's failings.

"Fairly sure that's not allowed to happen." I said, keeping my tone light and my words neutral. Owain shook his head.

"It's not allowed, that doesn't mean it won't. Not if it's the God's Will."

"I didn't think the _God's Will_ involved magic."

"No…" My friend's eyes crinkled with his smile. "Listen, if you want to help, don't let it show. Act normal, just stay on your guard. The Witch could show up anywhere, disguised as anyone. You're safer if you don't act like anything's different. She'd want us in a state of panic. Okay?" I nodded, finding myself slightly impresses by the Knights of Camelot. "Good. Now _go_, you'll get me in trouble."

"Yes boss." I smiled, gave him a mock salute, and skipped off. I made my way towards the kitchens, mindful of my promise to Elen.

* * *

><p>Amicia was not in a good mood when I found her. She was stirring a pot large enough to fit a whole pig, and swearing colourfully at the kitchen staff. She barely seemed to notice as I slid into a stool next to her and begun picking at a cold chicken carcass.<p>

"He might rule the bloody kingdom, but he has no clue how things are actually run." She muttered with venom.

"Careful," I cautioned her, my fingers finding a crispy piece of chicken skin and popping it in my mouth. "That's nearly treasonous." My knuckles received a sharp rap with a wooden spoon. I jerked them back, looking at Amicia in protest.

"Don't eat the stock!"

"There's still meat on it, if anything I was helping." I told her, making a grab for some more food. She whacked me again. "Okay, fine!" I gave up.

Amicia gave me an _almost_ approving nod, then went back to her ranting. "He should tell us when he's planning a feast, I don't have nearly enough people working in here as it is! And the _food_, what, does he expect me to pull fresh produce out my arse? I've not the time to find a new supplier, I've barely the time to make a sweet for after the main meal, and you know how the King loves them!" Her voice had gotten increasingly high pitched as she spoke. I couldn't help but be slightly amazed by how worked up she'd made herself in the minutes since Uther had announced the festival.

"Calm down," I soothed her. "I know a woman, Elen, who has the produce you need. I can make the sweet, and-" I was cut off by the sound of a commotion near the door. Both Amicia and I looked up to see what was going on. All the kitchen staff had gathered round a woman- someone's sister. She was speaking quickly, loudly, telling them all of the Witch.

"You know of this?" Amicia asked me.

"I was there." I shrugged.

"What? What happened?"

"Uther beheaded her son, so she threatened his life. That's what the feast is in aid of, it's been twenty years since magic was abolished, or something."

"Poor woman…" Amicia echoed my sentiments. I pulled a face in agreement, then turned back to the chicken. I could feel Amicia watching me, so resisted putting the skinny strips of flesh in my mouth, instead opting to break the bones for the stock.

We worked in silence for a while, Amicia fetching me chicken carcasses, me removing the meat and throwing what was left into an empty pan. Though neither of us could say it, we were both thinking the same thing. It was wrong. This much excitement and celebration because of a man's death was wrong.

Maybe it was easier for them. Running around, too busy with their feasts and parties to think. Death was not something I could handle with such flippancy. That was a luxury my past would not allow. And so, I sat barely moving, picking at old bones with nimble fingers, letting the excited chatter of the kitchen staff wash over me until I realised that there were no more carcasses to strip.

Amicia was at my side. "This woman you know, Elen? Go to her, I need these things." She pushed a scrap of parchment into my hands. "Take some of the girls, should you need them. Take whatever it is you need for the sweet, tell her to send the bill to the castle kitchens. She'll have her money tomorrow, give her my word." I nodded, standing to leave. "Claire," Amicia's hand caught my arm. "Look like you haven't been thinking. People will ask." I took a deep breath, then plastered a smile to my face, forcing my eyes to crinkle with false happiness. It was overkill- the way Amicia rolled her eyes told me she thought so too- but it was the safer way to be.

* * *

><p>Elen practically fainted when I handed the list to her, and rightly so. Amicia had called for more food than Elen usually sold in a week. With the help of Torvyn, who'd seen us struggling from his forge, we loaded four full barrels onto a cart, which I pulled along the uneven dirt road, back towards the castle. I flirted two guards into helping me carry the barrels down to Amicia, bidding one goodbye with a kiss on a cheek that quickly reddened.<p>

"You shouldn't tease them like that," Amicia told me, nudging my side as she came to inspect the goods.

"Better than straining my back lugging your ingredients down here." I replied, a smile creeping on to my face as her hands found the forty-something apples I'd brought back with me.

"The sweet? Apple pie is hardly suited to feasts."

"Oh ye of little faith." I grinned, grabbing an apple from her hand and biting down on it. I tried not to grimace at the tartness of it as a knowing smile crept on to Amicia's face, and swiftly changed the topic. "If you fancy earning my love, you could point me to the honey? And I know you've got some things from the Spiced Lands locked away in that cupboard of yours…"

"You should be so lucky! The things in there cost me more than your life's worth!"

"Amicia, trust me! If you don't like it, I'll pay you back, and if you do, you can take credit for the food but _please, pleeease_ let me have a look, at least?" She gave in with little pressure, and handed me the key. I ran over to the cupboard, keenly aware of her watchful eye.

The cupboard itself was worn birch, spectacularly unassuming considering the treasures inside. It opened with a satisfyingly loud _click_ revealing an array of tiny glass bottles. I ran my fingers over them absently. The cupboard smelled like a memory, it took me a second for me to place it. It smelled like _home_. It smelled of my grandmother's cooking, the meals she'd cook for my mother's birthday, or when Stephen and I were sick. I bit back on the tears and reaffirmed my gaze upon the glass jars. In my head, I named the spices fondly. _Aniseed, cardamom, cinnamon, fennel, nutmeg, saffron, star anise…_ I carefully lifted out the cinnamon and nutmeg, flashing a smile at Amicia whose expression put me in mind of an antiquer watching someone juggle Faberge eggs.

I set the spices down, and placed all the apples I'd bought in a basket next to them. Taking a sharp knife in my left hand, and an apple in my right, I set to work. Time melted away as I worked. That was the best thing about cooking, it didn't matter what house, town, _time_ I was in. It mattered how it tasted, how it looked and smelled. I was good at that. Amicia knew it, too. She wouldn't let me work in her kitchen otherwise, she _certainly_ wouldn't let me in the cupboard. But she trusted me, and my sense of judgement.

* * *

><p>The sky was darkening by the time I was done. I couldn't say how much time had passed, but it was closer to five hours than four. Amicia sat next to me, pushing a plate of food under my nose. In response I uncovered the sweet I'd been keeping secret from her, and wordlessly we began to eat.<p>

She'd given me a venison stew. It was rich, lean meat in a sweet sauce, with large chunks of turnip and carrot, on a bed of buttery crushed potatoes. I'd, in return, given her apples, hollowed out and baked, filled with a medley of spiced, stewed apple and a crumbly floury topping. My own take on the apple crumbles I would make with my Mother.

Amicia seemed to approve well enough, nodding her head at the servers to take the food up. She nudged my arm, too, indicating that I should join them alongside her. Uther, unlike many, enjoyed the company of the cooks. Contrary to what his figure would say, he was somewhat of a glutton and loved hearing about food almost as much as he enjoyed eating it.

The celebrations were well underway by the time the food arrived. I headed the party with Amicia, feeling both elated and nervous at the prospect of announcing the feast. All the other servers and cooks were well rehearsed in these presentations, but I'd hardly been in Camelot long enough to learn the etiquette. I felt horrifically unprepared. True enough, I'd made a name for myself pretty much the day I entered the city, but my social standing was no reflection on my social graces.

The great oaken double doors of the throne room were opened and Amicia and I stepped in, greeted by applause and cheers and drunken cries for the food that tailed us. I walked a fraction of a step behind Amicia, following her to Uther's table that headed the banquet hall.

"Your Grace," Amicia addressed Uther with a formality to her tone I was not accustomed to. "Might I present Of Ealdor, Claire. Her help in the creation of this feast tonight has been invaluable." The King gave me a nod of acknowledgment, and I felt my face burn at the recognition. "For you, tonight, we present a venison stew, with potatoes, bacon and cabbage, and a variety of boiled, baked and seasoned vegetables," she named each as they were set carefully in front of Uther by steady handed servers. "And for the sweet, Claire has created for you a unique variant on apple pie." A few appreciative murmurs rose as the apples were laid down.

"Morgana will love these, no doubt." Uther told me with a kind smile. "I don't suppose you've seen her? She had said she was going for a lie down, I wonder if she has yet to be roused."

"She's at the Griffin Landing, m'lord." One of the servers told him. "She said she wasn't joining yous for the feast." A crease appeared between the King's eyebrows. I could feel perplexed embarrassment radiating off him.

"If you'll excuse me, my lords. I must check on my Ward, I fear she may be ailing." He addressed his fellows at the table, standing, giving Amicia and I a curt nod of dismissal, and left to find Morgana. I followed Amicia once more to stand at the side of the room, watching as people ate. The limited number of apples I'd baked were disappearing at a rapid pace, and I felt a panicked twinge that I should've made more.

"You're showing me up." Teased the cook. More apples adorned plates than stew. One of my favourite things about feasts in Camelot was the lack of distinction between courses. Everything got piled on to the table at once. You wanted cake, then soup? Have it. You wanted strawberries to accompany your chicken? Fine. I wished we'd done meals like that back home.

A handful of people, Lords and Ladies, Guards and Bannermen, made a point of approaching me and complimenting my dish. I felt my cheeks flush with pride at each compliment, and did my best to respond with grace and eloquence, half wanting Amicia to save me from all the interaction, but she had fans of her own to deal with.

Over the shoulder of one such complimenter, a portly man- Sir Gryffyn, I spotted Owain crossing towards me, faltering before he reached me. I followed his line of vision, looking to my left, unaware of Gryffyn leaving. Uther was walking to me, his expression one of repressed anger. My hand instantly gravitated to my hip, where my dagger was hidden by the length of my top.

"Amicia." The King greeted her with a hand on the shoulder. "If you could send some of those apple creations to the Lady Morgana in her chambers, I'd be much obliged. She isn't feeling entirely well, and has deigned not to join us for the feast." She nodded, taking an empty platter from a passing server and piling it with an assortment of food from the feast.

"You can go," she told me over her shoulder.

I practically squeaked my "_Thank you!_" and rushed to the exit. Owain caught me as I neared the door.

"You're leaving so soon?"

"I'm making a break for freedom." I grinned. "I feel far too _common_ to be here."

Owain smiled at me. "Well, listen. I leave on patrol morn after next. Come find me tomorrow? Arthur made mutterings of target practice, you should be there." I nodded, not willing to open my mouth for fear of expressing how little I cared about watching Arthur trying to hit a bull's eye. He was a decent enough archer, but he could only slow a man down, never kill him. His aim was poor, and his ego made him apathetic. I bade my friend goodbye, promising him that I would show up.

* * *

><p>It was only as I wandered the cool corridors to the courtyard did thoughts of Merlin again cross my mind. I'd deliberately filled my day with activity, unwilling to indulge the subject of his arrival. I would run into him eventually, especially if he was staying with Gaius. The Physician had said nothing of it, but I had a sliver of paranoia that Will may have accompanied Merlin. Facing Merlin was daunting enough, but Will was someone I'd happily run from for the rest of my life. I'd been a coward. I didn't want to have to face up to that.<p>

Two tall figures, likely knights, were at the opposite end of the corridor to me. Instinctively, I bowed my head, glancing up at the last moment to recognise them as Sir Leon and Sir Bertrand. I passed them with a nod and a smile, only to be caught round the waist by Bertrand and slung over his shoulder. I shrieked in surprise, as he called back to Sir Leon "sorry, must escort the lady to her chambers!"

"Put me down!" I protested, thumping him on the back. "Bertrand!"

"Okay, okay, stop wriggling!" He set my feet on the ground, and clapped me on the shoulder. "Owain spoken to you today?"

"Depends what he's meant to have spoken to me about." I replied. Bertrand was nice enough, encouraging even, but I didn't know him well enough to trust him. He wasn't the kind of person I'd want to fight alongside, he seemed over-loyal to Arthur, willing to leave everyone else behind for the Prince's safety. I didn't think Arthur was worth that much.

Bertrand moved to open a door for me, letting in a rush of cool air from outside. "Training tomorrow? Arthur's planned something for just outside the courtyard. Owain was looking to tell you."

I said nothing on the matter.

"You've no need to walk me home." I told him as he led me across the stone of the courtyard.

"It's courtesy. And I need to sober up." He laughed a booming laugh and scratched at the whiskers on his chin. I didn't reply. There was something about drunk men that set me on edge, I chose to walk in silence, thanking Bertrand when we reached my door, then darting inside and locking it behind me. I collapsed into bed without so much as changing my clothes.

* * *

><p>I rose with the sun the next morning, rolling out of bed and fixing breakfast with bleary eyes and persistent yawns. I had a mind to hunt, but Andrea had been busy with the foals and I didn't want to disturb her if she was sleeping. I left for Torvyn's instead, my bow at my back and an empty quiver to my hip.<p>

The forge was already hot by the time I arrived, and Torvyn was beating the dents out of a breastplate, sweat on his brow. "Busy?" I asked, setting my bow and quiver by the door of his house.

"Aye, lass. Feel free to sharpen those swords." He jerked his head towards the sword rack, piled high full of dull blades. I nodded, rolling up my sleeves and taking a broadsword to the grindstone. "So what's wrong with the bow?"

"Nothing, I'm taking it to practice. I need some arrows though, I was thinking maybe you could show me how to make them?"

"Now? That I can." He put the hammer down and gestured for me to join him. "I'll teach you basic ones, yeah? You can make them if you ever get stuck in a forest, or something of that ilk. Here." He handed me a thin stick. "You want to cut a notch from that, uh, with this," a knife was pressed into my hand. "Make it wide enough to fit an arrow head snugly, you don't want it lose." I gave it a try, chipping tiny fragments of wood out, creating a narrow slit. Torvyn handed me the arrow head, and under his instruction, I pushed it into the notch, securing it firmly with twine. "You can use bark," he told me, as his nimble fingers demonstrated how to cut bird's feathers to equal size, so as not to imbalance the arrow. "It, uh, it depends on what tree, of course. But some bark is stringy enough. It'll do in a pinch. 'Course, the arrows you'd get for combat would be all steel, no string or twine, but you're making do." He handed me the feathers, and I used them to measure the length of the notch I'd need to make to house them. It seemed simple enough, the feathers were fixed into their tight grooves soon enough, and Torvyn- ever the perfectionist, was filing down a few raises on the wood. "There ya go, lass." The arrow was pressed into my hand, complete within twenty minutes.

He had me craft ten more, before letting me practice. On his insistence, I used the first arrow I'd made. I knocked it, drew the bowstring tight, and released it into the side of one of Elen's barrels. She started and looked at me with an annoyed frown. I grinned apologetically and rushed over to retrieve the arrow. "Sorry!"

"Hmm, if I didn't know how good your aim is, I'd need a lot more than sorry." She berated me. I apologised again, deciding not to tell her that I'd aimed for the barrel left of the one I'd hit. Torvyn was smiling wickedly when I crossed back to him.

"Not perfectly balanced, I take it?"

"Not the best I've ever shot with, no." I muttered.

"Ah, you'll get the hang of it. You'll want to get going though, sun's coming over the turrets, Prince Arthur will be training now, sure as anything." I nodded, my eyes looking to the sky for confirmation of his words. "You shoot me a pheasant with one of those, and I'll have thirty more arrow heads for you to use."

I shook his hand on that. "A fair deal if ever I heard one, I'll see you later." I told him, grabbing my bow and quiver, and jogging up through the lower town.

* * *

><p>Owain was perched on a wall outside the courtyard overlooking a field. I joined him just as Arthur made his presence known with a hooting laugh. He swaggered onto the field, tailed by his cocky friends and an unfortunate squire. It wouldn't surprise me if they were still drunk for the night before.<p>

"Barely any point showing up today then." Muttered Owain in my ear. I knew what he meant. Neither Arthur nor his friends were dressed for combat. They all wore lose linen shirts and carried their swords casually at their hips. Arthur almost redeemed himself by wearing his usual protection on his shoulders, but with his fellows in such flimsy wear, it wasn't going to be much of a practice.

"Right," Arthur clapped his hands together, summoning the Knights to gather. Owain hopped off the wall, leaving me leaning against it on my own. "The time for festivities is over," he soon faded into background noise, my attention caught instead by the squire. The boy could've been no more than fourteen, fumbling about as he organised Arthur's weapons and set up a wooden target that was almost as large as he was. I tried to catch his attention as he turned to his other duties, the target was facing west, meaning that nobody could see it for the sun, but Arthur beat me to it, looking around in an over exaggerated manner. "_Where's_ the target?"

The squire looked confused. "Uh, there, sir." As he turned his head, his eyes narrowed against the sun, and his face showed the expression of a man realising his foolish mistake. Arthur was going to slay him for it, we all knew.

"It's into the sun." Arthur stated simply.

"It's not that bright,"

"Bit like you then!" That drew a round of laughs and jeers. My teeth gritted. I really did not care for Arthur when he was like this. Clearly it was too much for the future king to politely say _can you move it?_

The squire nodded, making the suggestion for Arthur. "I'll put the target on the other end, shall I, sir?" Owain moved to join me again, as we watched the boy struggle with it. He lifted it up against his shoulder, the painted wooden circle shielding his entire body. Arthur muttered something to his friends, then drew a knife from his belt and flung it. It lodged near dead centre, causing a bout of laughter from the Knights that only grew in volume when the boy poked his head over the top of the target with an indignant "_Hey! Hang on!_"

"Don't stop." Arthur's was grinning like a wolf, giving the order as though it was the most obvious command in the world.

It was embarrassing to watch, as the boy walked backwards to a new location, evidently not understanding Arthur's intentions. "Here?" The boy's voice was noticeably higher.

I could hear Arthur rolling his eyes as he spoke. "I told you to keep moving." The boy didn't seem to understand, so for clarification, the Prince whipped another dagger through the air, this time sticking the bull's eye to more laughs and cheers. "Come on! Run!" Finally, the squire understood and began running back and forth, the target pulled up high so that it covered his head and torso. "We want some moving target practice!" laughed Arthur, landing another three hits before the lad dropped the target, and went chasing after it on his hands and knees.

It was only as the circle of wood clattered to the floor did I realise the tall stranger, who lifted his boot, stopping the target completely. His hair was black and scruffy, too long at the back, his ears stuck out a bit, he had high cheekbones and the apples of his cheeks lifted as he smiled and spoke.

"Hey. Come on, that's enough." If I doubted it before, I couldn't now. His voice hadn't changed. He was taller, less chubby, but definitely himself.

Arthur was less than impressed. "What?"

"You've had your fun, my friend."

"Do I know you?" The Prince sauntered over to him. Owain shifted more upright next to me.

"This could be interesting." He muttered. I nodded, refocusing on the interaction before us.

"I'm Merlin."

"So I don't know you?"

"No," the hand Merlin had raised fell as he sized up Arthur.

"Yet you called me 'friend'." Arthur's tone was patronising, to the point where I couldn't ignore it like I usually did. A part of me was tempted to go over and shut him up myself, but Merlin seemed to have it in hand.

"That was my mistake." He said dryly.

"Yes, I think so."

"Yeah," Merlin's smile was strained. "I'd never have a friend who could be such an ass."

"Oh you idiot." I said without thinking. Owain grinned at me. Merlin was walking away, and all I could do was hope that things would be left there. Had it been anyone other than Arthur that may have been the case, but his ego came first and he opened his mouth, speaking to Merlin's back.

"Or I, one who could be so stupid. Tell me, _Merlin¸ _do you know how to walk on your knees?"

"No." Merlin stopped. He was losing his patience.

"Would you like me to help you?"

Merlin squared up to Arthur. "I wouldn't if I were you."

Arthur was laughing, so were all the other knights, Owain included. Merlin was weedy, Arthur was a well built, aggressive, skilled fighter. "Why?" He grinned. "What're you going to do to me?"

"You have no idea." If I hadn't known him, I wouldn't have moved closer, wouldn't have notched an arrow. The Merlin I knew had never been aggressive, but that was two years ago. A lot could change in two years. Arthur was still goading him, his mocking smile stretched wide across his face.

"Be my guest!" He threw his arms out to his side, his entire body exposed for Merlin to strike. I shifted my footing, preparing to fire. "Come on! Come on!" Everyone was watching, but no one knew Merlin had magic, they all just thought him some stupid kid taking on the Prince. "Come on!"

I drew a breath, raised my bow. Merlin swung for Arthur, a sloppy right hook. The Prince caught his arm and twisted it up behind his back in a tight lock. I let out a relieved sigh, chastising myself for ever thinking the worst of him, and twisted, letting my arrow fly into a target. A few eyes caught mine, and I respond with a bored expression, knocking and loosing a few more arrows, trying to give off a sense of apathy towards the altercation between Arthur and Merlin. I only glanced back as Arthur kicked Merlin in the back of the knees and had him dragged away by guards.

"Off to the cells for the runt." Owain said, joining my side and taking my bow from me, shooting at the target and missing. He grunted and took another of my arrows, trying again.

"Arthur should've taken him." I muttered, gently lifting Owain's right arm so that his anchor point lined up with his cheekbone. "He who passes the sentence should swing the axe." I quoted Fletcher. The words didn't sound right when it wasn't his voice saying them. Owain hit the target this time.

"You sure you're talking about today?"

"I'm sure." I lied. "What's going to happen to the runt?"

"Cells. He might get flogged, that's what happens if you try to punch the Prince."

My stomach dropped. Floggings weren't fun, I still had the scars from mine. I moved to the target, biting hard on the tremor in my lip. I retrieved the arrows, sliding them in my quiver, then crossed back to Owain and took my bow from him. "Sucks to be him. Stupid idiot."

"Where are you off?"

"Somewhere more interesting than this." I paused. "That's not a jab at you. I just- I'm not feeling too great. Slept badly, feeling grumpy. Sorry."

"I'll come by later after you've had a nap then." Owain smiled, pulling me in for a brief hug, somewhat hindered by the bow in my hand.

I left the square as nonchalantly as possible. As soon as I was out of Owain's view, I pulled the bow over my head and sprinted for Gaius as fast as I was able. He nearly fell over when I barged into his chambers. "Sorry!" I gasped.

"What is the matter with you child?"

"Merlin," I panted. "Merlin, they took him. He's- he's in the cells. He tried to hit Arthur." For a moment it seemed like the physician didn't believe me, but then he rushed out the door, brushing past me, offsetting my balance and making me stumble. My foot found a piece of dowel that rolled away from underneath me, and I ended up on the floor. I pulled myself to my feet, rubbing my bruised backside.

Being in the Gaius's chambers without Gaius felt highly intrusive. I left, shutting the door behind me. The day ahead of me felt empty, now. I briefly considered returning to the training field, but I'd already lied to Owain about being tired, I didn't want to make up an excuse for suddenly feeling much better. I wandered through the castle aimlessly, seeking some sort of inspiration. Eventually, I opted to sit on the roof and enjoy the autumn sunshine.

My feet led me to the eastern towers. The corridors were bustling with activity for Uther's ongoing celebrations. For a moment, I was half tempted to head to the kitchens and see if Amicia needed any help, but the warm light coming through the windows drew me out towards the rooftop.

I opened the door, surprised to find that Sir Leon was there, leaning on the wall, looking out over the lower town. I stood awkwardly in the doorway for a second before he realised my presence. There was a moment where neither of us knew what to say.

"You're not fucking someone up here are you?" I finally asked.

His mouth opened, then closed. He opened it again, a strange look in his eye. "No. Should I be?"

"I don't know, maybe. You wouldn't be the first knight I've caught doing _unseemly_ things." I told him, walking over to stand at his side.

"Oh really? Who?"

"Can't say, I made promises." It was a half-truth. I'd never seen a Knight of Camelot doing '_unseemly things'_, but it had happened plenty of times when I was in Cenrid's Court. My words had faded into awkward silence. Something about Leon set me on edge. I never felt unsafe with him, but I was a far cry from comfortable.

"Would've thought you'd be with Owain." He remarked.

"Got bored." I muttered, my gaze following the flight of a pigeon. I idly wondered if I could shoot it down. "What about you, why aren't you at training?"

"Needed to clear my head, I, um," he paused for a second. "I'm surprised. I would've thought you'd relish the opportunity to show everyone up at target practice." I frowned. It didn't feel like that's what he'd been about to say.

"Didn't think you knew how well I could shoot." It rubbed me the wrong way, the idea that he knew more about me than I'd let him. The instincts that Fletcher had ingrained in me weren't entirely gone. "Clear your head of what?" I tried to regain control of the conversation.

He watched me, and I looked back, unblinking. He was at least a foot taller than I was. His hair curly and blond, pushed out of his face, his beard, though it was closer to stubble, was blond too, but flecked with ginger. I liked his eyes. They were blue, not dark or light, but a weird combination of both, that made me think of the sea in a storm. His gaze was soft, and for a moment, I become very conscious of my own expression, hard and mistrusting.

I smiled, trying to match the softness in his eyes, and said quietly, "You can trust me." It was a blatant lie, but it worked. He stepped back, turned to look out over the turret again.

"My Uncle died."

"I-" I had not been expecting that to be his response, not at all. "Are you okay?" He nodded. "Were you close?" He nodded again, tears glazing his eyes. "Do you want me to talk about something else?"

"No, it's fine. It's just a shock. I don't really know what to do now."

"Go home." I said, simply. "Say goodbye."

"What good will that do?"

"You'd be amazed." I felt oddly bitter towards the man next to me. Or perhaps jealous. What I wouldn't give to be able to say goodbye. "I didn't get to say goodbye to my family." His silence prompted me to keep talking. "I was forced to leave, and I couldn't go back-" I'd forgotten about the fact I was meant to have no memory. It was only for a second, but it could've been fatal. I quickly tried to recover. "That's all I can remember. The same thing happened in Ealdor. Well, kind of. I chose to leave. Just sort of picked up in the dead of night and… left."

"Why?" He was watching me again.

"Leon," The words struggled to come to me. "I don't want to make this about me."

"You're not." He said. "It helps, listening to other people. It always has for me." I watched him for a long moment. Did I really want to go down this road?

"Okay. Okay, sure." Why not tell him everything? I'd never told anyone before. I'd just been holding on to my past, letting it slowly poison me, letting it fuck with me to the point that I was terrified of seeing my best friend after months. Talking, _finally talking_, could help. "So a year ago, maybe more, I fell in love with someone, as all great clichés go. I didn't mean to, I didn't want to. I wanted to find my family, go home. That was my priority. But I loved this guy. I ignored it, acted like he was just a friend. The thing was, I never actively tried to get home. I didn't know how to. I just sort of waited, in the same village for however long, hoping that they'd find me and using it as an excuse to stay with him. I mean, he didn't love me back, so it was a pretty fruitless venture.

"And then one day, like the bastard that he is, this guy tells me he loves me. And I immediately feel trapped. I love him and he loves me, and everyone knows what happens, you stay together, wed, have children, live on a farm for your forty years and then die. That's it. That's how it goes. I couldn't handle that. I still had to find my family, still had to get home. I couldn't do the whole routine. So, maybe a week after he tells me, I tell him I'm going to hunt early in the morning. Then I go out into the woods and don't come back." My lungs felt iron-cast, I could feel the panic attack building, but pushed on.

"He could be dead now. The only person I've ever been in love with, and I left him. I don't know what's happened to him, if he moved on, if he didn't really care, if he still cares… It was a stupid thing to do, going like that. I owed him a goodbye at least, but I couldn't look him in the eyes and say-" My voice cut off without permission, the panic was in my throat. I took a deep breath through my nose, tried to anchor myself. The sun was warm on my hands. I focused on that. Heat, warmth, fire. Things that comforted me. I tried to imagine flames crackling in my ear, tried to imagine little burning sparks floating from the flames of a camp fire into the air. It was working, I could breathe again.

"Are you okay?" Leon asked softly.

"Yeah. Yeah I think so." I was still breathing deeply, filling my lungs with as much air as I could. "Sorry. That's the first time I've talk about it for a while. First time ever, really." I shook myself. "You should say goodbye. It's important. It's good for you."

"It's three days ride, I'd miss the tournament."

"Three?" I raised my eyebrow at him.

"Two." He conceded. "But I'd still miss the tournament."

"I think both Uther and Arthur would forgive you all things considered." He still looked sceptical. It grated me. "Look," I huffed. "I'm useless at this, talk to Gwen about it." I grabbed my bow and left, shutting the tower door behind me. I was halfway down the stairs when I heard Leon's footsteps behind me. He caught up easily, talking louder than necessary, his voice echoing in the narrow stairway.

"So what are you going to do now?"

"I don't know." I chewed at my lip. "I'm bored. There's nothing to do."

"You live in the City of Camelot and you say there's nothing to do?" He laughed.

"It's like, you know those moods where you get bored of everything you do really quickly? I just can't settle."

"I'm the same."

I smiled over my shoulder at him. "You've got a reason though, I'm just… dissatisfied."

"Then let's find something satisfying to do."

I was hesitant to agree. Part of me reasoned that I didn't want to go because I wouldn't enjoy myself and it'd be a waste of Leon's time. Another part pointed out that I was meant to be seeing Owain after my "nap". And a final, third part of me sat in the back of my mind, its arms crossed and a stern look on its face, shaking its head at me. I stopped on the stairs and turned to face him.

"Why are you being so nice to me?"

He seemed taken aback. "Am I usually not?"

"It's not that. But we don't _do_ stuff. I'm fairly sure I've only ever spoken to you when I'm with Gwen or Owain."

"We get on well enough, don't we?"

I could hardly tell him that he made me uneasy just by being himself, so I smiled and simply replied "we do."

* * *

><p>Leon and I ended up at a lake. He'd suggested we go for a ride, and convinced a stable hand to give me one of the palace horses. I had nothing better to do with my time. The entire day melted away to conversation and water lapping up over our bare feet. Somehow, we'd ended up talking about how we first met.<p>

"What was that thing you were making for the cripple?" He asked.

I shot him a look. "Don't call him that. He has a name." To his credit, Leon looked ashamed. "It was a thing to help him get around."

"It was a chair."

"Well… yeah. But with wheels. Like, the theory was that he pushes the wheel and it moves him forward."

"Did it work?"

"Yep." I smiled, lying back on the grass. I was feeling a bit more comfortable around him. The grass was cool, and the sun was warm and he was good company. He'd stopped us when we were riding to pick some blackberries- the last of the year. I still had a few, folded in a square of cloth. I laid it open on my stomach, "want one?" I offered Leon. He shook his head. I shrugged and put a couple in my mouth. "When're you gonna set off to see your family?" I asked, at the same time as he said "Who were you?"

We both followed up our questions with, "_What?_"

"You first." I told him. He repeated himself and I raised an eyebrow. "Have I changed in the past few hours?"

"Before you came to Camelot." He clarified.

I hesitated for a moment. "What makes you think I was anyone different?"

"Your talents, mostly." He paused to lick his lips. "You're unlike any woman."

"What, ever?"

"Claire. You're a smith and an archer and countless other things. You're trusted by half the King's guard, let alone the King _himself_. And from what I've seen you have enough gold to move out of the lower town. Are you noble?"

"Just lucky." I paused. "That man I told you about earlier? He taught me how to shoot. After I left him, I earned my keep any way I could. Found a couple of decent people that took me in and fed me in return for my labour. After I knew how to do stuff, I could start earning on my own. Eventually I made my way to Camelot and met Gwen, and Lady Morgana. That's the only reason Uther knows my name. As for the King's guard, you can blame yourself and Owain for that."

He didn't push it any further. The conversation dwindled back into meaninglessness until the sun dropped low in the sky, lighting up the clouds with a luminous pink glow. I sat up, lifting my toes out of the water. I wiggled some life back into them, unable to decide if they'd turned blue in the cold water or if the evening sky was playing tricks on my eyes. Whilst I was preoccupied with my digits, Leon was busy readying the horses to ride. I joined him, standing close by. I wanted to tell him how crazy I found it that I was so much more comfortable next to him after less than a day.

Instead I stood on my tiptoes and pulled some strands of grass from his hair.

He stood still, an amused smile on his face. When I was done, I twirled the grass between my fingers. He brushed it from my hand. "Am I beautiful now?"

"You always were." I told him, trying to look very serious. I couldn't maintain it, and laughed. "Race you back?"

* * *

><p>As I collapsed into bed that night I smiled. I'd arrived home to find a note pinned to my door from Owain, jokingly cussing me for my absence and promising to make me pay next time we trained together. It was tucked under my pillow, I could feel the rough crackle of parchment as I rolled over to press my back against the wall. My mind flitted from hazy scenario to hazy scenario as I fell asleep, my family, Will, Leon, even Arthur all made guest appearances as I left consciousness.<p>

I woke brimming with the kind of energy that would be best spent whacking someone with a blunt sword. I pulled on a set of the armour Fletcher had gifted to me, tied my hair up and even went as so far as to paint inky black eyeliner on. I felt sexy. The kind of sexy that made me feel like I could control someone with a wink and a smile.

Maybe I was right, maybe it was my ego being over-inflated, but I noticed as I walked towards the castle, the double glances I was receiving, people breaking off mid-sentence and catching my eye. It put a very genuine smile on my face.

I ran through a mental list of all the places Owain could be. Starting with the training field, I worked my way haphazardly through the castle. I checked the battlements and courtyard and kitchens, even looked to see who was guarding the throne room, though I knew that wasn't often a job for the knights. My venture ended up with me heading to the armoury. Half the morning had gone and I'd done little to expend the energy I'd woken with.

The armoury door was open ahead of me, and through it, I recognised a mop of curly hair. The mop was pulling off a cape, and unsheathing a sword. I darted behind him, around the rows of swords. "Nice cloak." I said. Leon started a little, then gave me a confused look. "Wouldn't mind seeing you in that. Just that, though." He rolled his eyes, shifting the now folded cloak and holding it in the crook of his elbow.

"You're not supposed to be here."

I was instantly hit with a worrying feeling that he was annoyed at me. Had I somehow offended him the day before? "Misery guts." I said, realising too late that if he was annoyed, that wouldn't help. I moved to stand directly in front of him, speaking in an effort to erase my last sentence, "you're rather tall, Leon."

"You're rather small." He wasn't wrong. I was at least a head shorter than him. I pushed up onto my tip toes.

"Ouch," I narrowed my eyes. "Who knew you could be snarky?" He didn't say anything. "Leon if you're going to stand there looking all cool and sexy, I am going to have to remove my clothes and take you at once." _Finally_ he cracked a smile.

"Why are you here Claire?"

"I'm bored." I sighed. "I was on an Owain hunt."

Leon hesitated. "I'm afraid you've missed him. He's set off on a patrol."

"Oh." I'd forgotten. How had I forgotten? Mentally, I rebuked myself for it. I'd never not said goodbye to him when he set off patrol. "When will he be back?"

"Uh, a week? Was it important?"

I shook myself. One mistake wasn't going to ruin my good mood. "Nah, just wanted some training." I smiled up at him, "you know what I'm like. I get too bored doing one job in the day."

"Training with what?"

"Archery," I shrugged. He said nothing, like he was waiting for me to elaborate. "Swords, Crossbows. Anything really. I just want to be able to fight, y'know?" Of course he knew. We'd spoken about it plenty the day before.

He smiled at me. "I'm available now. If you'd like, I mean..." The grin formed on my lips before I had a chance to stop it. Every now and then, he would be bashful to the point where I just wanted to give him a big bear hug and tell him how precious he was.

"Really?" I asked, wanting to give him an out.

"Yeah. What do you want to practice with?" I was a bit thrown by being given the choice.

"Oh, I don't care." I played it off. "Whatever's good with you. You're the one doing me a favour after all."

Leon's arm moved to my side, I tensed, thinking he was going to grab my waist, but he plucked a sword from the rack behind me and sheathed it at his hip. He looked me up and down, then asked "want to get some armour?"

"Pfft, armour's for wimps." I stated, poking his chest and make him step back out of my personal space. I was half-tempted to tell him that what I was wearing was armour, but that could raise a lot of awkward questions, so when he gave me a stern look and said _"Claire"_ I conceded.

"Fine then grumpy. But nothing here fits me, what with being fabulously _not-male_ an' all." He smiled and assured me we'd find something.

It took forever to do so. Whilst Leon was mixing and matching pieces of plate armour that _might_ fit, I was searching through the heavy maille for the smallest piece I could find. When I succeeded, I held the chain-metal up to Leon for inspection. He helped me pull it over my head, guffawing as it dropped past my knees. I gave him a rueful look and pulled a belt around my waist, cinching it as tight as I could. Leon moved back to helping me, smoothing the maille as much as _he_ could, giving me more belts. Eventually we created a sort of larger belt, and I pulled the maille up and over it as best as I could, creating a sort of skirt that took some of the length off. It was uncomfortable and fairly impractical, but it'd do its job.

I reverted to student-mode. Listening to Leon's comments on the weapons we were using in obedient silence. He asked me questions every now and then, but other than that, I gave him complete control of our training session. He handed me swords and daggers, his hands hesitated over a bow, then moved and swung a crossbow over his back instead. He smiled at me again, and gestured for us to leave.

My energy, which had somewhat subsided in the humdrum acts of getting ready, instantly returned, and I found myself skipping and bouncing. I danced and twirled in the most ridiculous ways around Leon on our way to the training field making him smile and laugh. I couldn't tell if he was laughing at me or with me, but he was _laughing_. That mattered. I was all too aware that he was still grieving.

He eventually came to a halt, and so did I, though I couldn't help bouncing up and down on the balls of my feet ever so slightly. We laid down our weapons, Leon moving to drop the crossbow gently on the grass. "I like that crossbow." I told him. He paused, giving me plenty of chance to take it from him. I ran my hands along the smooth mahogany. "It's beautiful." I breathed, tracing the carvings gently, admiring the mechanism that released the bolt.

"You can try it out first, if you want?"

My head snapped up, eyes meeting his. Excitement surged through me. "Oh my god, really?" I didn't give him a change to respond, the bow had two bolts held underneath it in what essentially was a metal capsule. I took one, and loaded it. The bowstring was taught, and difficult to pull back, but I managed.

I crossed to the target, concentration silencing excitable energy. I slid into the position I took for archery, feet slightly apart, facing the target side on. It felt so natural. I raised the bow, closing an eye as I focused on the bullseye. In my head, I could hear Fletcher rebuking me, '_One eye shut means one side your enemies can attack.'_ I could almost feel him clipping me round the back of my ear. I pulled the trigger before thoughts of Fletcher could distract me. To my sheer surprise, I met my mark. A squealing giggle left my lips and I turned to Leon. "Did you see that?" The look on his face said that he had.

"It's very impressive," he commended evenly.

"'_Very impressive_'?" I sneered. "_That_ was fucking _amazing_! That was the greatest shot I've ever made with one of these!" He was grinning at me again, so I decided to push my luck. "Can I have it?"

"If you've got the gold you could probably get one crafted." He said. A bubble of excitement rose in my chest.

"Sweet! How much gold?" I had plenty.

"Somewhere in the thousands." My bubble popped. I didn't have that much. I had other skills though. "Well, a couple of years of saving, make a few deals, this baby's mine." I shrugged off the disappointment. If I asked Owain nicely he'd probably let me use it again.

Leon coaxed me into leaving the crossbow to the side, and begun teaching me how to throw daggers. They were clumsier than the fine blades I'd used in the past, the hilt felt far too heavy for the blade. Still, I wouldn't necessarily have a knife to hand. This was a surprisingly good skill to master. It took plenty more time than it should have, but with some gentle advice from Leon, I was hitting my marks every time as the sun reached noon in the sky.

He decided that we should break at that point, suggesting that we maybe go to the kitchens for some food. I shook my head at that, taking him by the hand and dragging him to Andrea's house. I didn't even have to knock on the door, she opened it with a smile on her face and a sandwich in her hand.

"Saw you coming a mile off." The sandwich was pressed into my hand, and I passed it to Leon. "I'll make another now, come inside." We obliged, Leon shifting his feet awkwardly as he stood in the doorway. He was so tall, he eclipsed all the sunlight coming through it. Andrea and I made mindless chatter whilst she prepared a second sandwich. Ronny had gone out with his father, she told me, to throw rotting fruit at some fool in the stocks. The sandwich was handed to me- cold lamb squashed snuggly between lettuce and thick seedy bread.

As I bit into it, I decided that today would be the day to visit Merlin. Knowing me all too well, Andrea left me to finish my lunch in silence, talking to Leon instead. Their conversation was awkward and halting, they had nothing in common. Yet, to my surprise, Leon was courteous, charming even. He even kissed Andrea's hand when we bade her thanks and goodbye, returning to the field.

The day was much warmer now, and when Leon suggested swords, I couldn't help pouting. He wouldn't let up though, making me start with tedious basic manoeuvres. He taught in the exact same way as Owain, I had to stand there, moving into rigid positions whilst he yelled numbers at me. It got dull fast, and I changed the game by lashing out at Leon with the flat of my blade. He jumped back with a yell, his blade coming up to meet mine.

I grinned at him.

We fell into a battle without a word of warning to one another. It was easy, more dancing than duelling. He stepped to lash out with a blow to my stomach, but I deflected it with such force that his sword dropped from his hand. There was barely a second before we were back to fighting. I disarmed him countless times, always on the same fault. He'd step to "fatally" injure me, instead of stepping _and_ striking me. It gave me such an easy advantage over him.

I couldn't help but tease him for it, and that gentle grin appeared on his face all too quickly. Soon it stopped being fighting, and became pissing around. We were jabbing at each other, bending back fingers, tickling. Our swords has been left to the wayside, as we tried to wrestle one another into submission. He won, squeezing my thigh, making me shriek in alarm and fall backwards onto the ground. Laughing, he offered me a hand and pulled me up.

"I think we should call it a day." I could barely agree through my giggles. "Get going," he said with a smile, "I'll tidy up here." I didn't argue with that. It was only mid-afternoon, yet I was too exhausted to do anything but walk back to the armoury and shed my maille.

* * *

><p>I left the armoury feeling ten stone lighter and wandered idly to Gaius, wondering if maybe Amicia would give me some chicken for my dinner. My train of thought was shattered, however, as someone crashed into me. We collapsed to the ground in the heap. Whoever had collided into me was scrambling to their feet, apologising several times as they did so. A hand was offered to me, and I took it, pulling myself up and coming face to face with Merlin.<p>

For a second, we were frozen, staring at each other. Then his apologetic expression turned to disbelief, quickly overcome by anger.

"Merlin, I can explain." I began, but he was already walking away. I decided against chasing him. I'd try again that night. Changing my plans at that instant, I headed to the kitchen instead. It was late enough in the day that dinner preparations would've begun. I could find light work there easy enough.

"I expected you here hours ago." Amicia called to me as I entered the steamy kitchen. I crossed to join her on the far side of the room, grabbing a handful of small tomatoes on my way. I'd only had one before she slapped the rest out of my hand into the stew she was watching. It smelled delicious. Rich, tomatoey sauce, with potato and lamb. I had to resist dipping a spoon in the pot to taste. Some things Amicia forgave. Eating from the pot was not one of those things.

"I was training." I told her, leaning against a countertop. "We went to Andrea's for lunch. Bored now."

"You and Owain?"

"Sir Leon. Owain's on patrol."

Amiciai gave me a quick nod of acknowledgment, before screaming across the crowded room at a young lad. "_If I have to ask you one more fucking time to slice that bread I'll be feeding you to the King's fucking hounds!" _I took advantage of her distraction to shove a couple of pieces of braised lamb in my mouth. She turned back to me. "I'll feed you to the bloody hounds as well if you're not careful."

"Don't know what you're talking about." I replied through a mouthful of food.

I whiled away the rest of the afternoon in the kitchen. Amicia gave me odd jobs to do but there surprisingly wasn't much. I ended up stuffing my face with what I could.

* * *

><p>Evening fell, and the servers came to take food to various parts of the castle. The Lady Helena had arrived late the night before, so she was dining with Uther. Arthur and Morgana were eating separate. I couldn't keep track of where the knights ate, I didn't even try. Amicia invited to me join her.<p>

I wasn't all that hungry, thanks to my relentless snacking, so I just sat with her while she ate. She told me that a tournament that would begin in two days' time, part of Uther's celebrations. I decided against telling her I already knew of it. We joked about me sticking a beard on my face and joining in, before Amicia paused.

"What's wrong?" She asked, pointing her spoon at me.

"Nothing."

"Don't lie to your superiors."

I rolled my eyes. "Pissed someone off today, someone I care about. I need to go make it up to him, but I'm a coward."

"You're not a coward. Just take him some food. Men love food. How do you think I stayed married all these years?" I laughed at that. " Go on." She jerked her head toward the exit. "Go get it over and done with." Nodding, I stood and moved to the door. As I neared it Amicia's voice stopped me. "Claire. You're no coward. You're young, a lot younger than most people realise. There's no shame in acting your age."

* * *

><p>Gaius was sat on his own when I walked in. He gave me that look of his, the one that made me feel like I was in trouble for something I couldn't remember doing. "I, uh, came to see Merlin." I told him.<p>

"He's through there." I walked to the back room, and quietly pushed the door open, aware of Gaius watching me.

Merlin looked up but didn't say anything. I took that to mean I could stay, and shut the door behind me. I joined him in sitting on the bed.

"Before you melt my eyes out of their sockets," I whispered, rubbing my palms together anxiously. "Will you let me explain?" He said nothing, but nodded when I glanced at him. "He told me he loved me." I couldn't figure out what to say after that, but Merlin responded, his tone harsh.

"So you ran away because you were too scared to tell him you don't love him back."

"I _do_! … I did." The correction was too slow. I sighed and hung my head. "I do." I started picking at some dry skin at the side of one of my nails. "I got freaked out. All I wanted to do was get back to my parents and him telling me he loved me… It felt like I had to choose between staying with him, or getting home to my family. So I opted for neither, and left. I got into some pretty deep shit pretty fast, I couldn't get out, and by the time I could, going back to Ealdor would've done more harm than good- It's not like it was easy!" I paused and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. Sorrier than I can describe, for leaving you all. I was looking out for myself, I was being selfish. Leaving felt like the only option at the time."

"We all missed you." Of all the things I was expecting him to say, that wasn't one of them. Something stirred inside me. A clenching hand squeezing at my heart and lungs. Suddenly, it was very hard to breathe. The tears came to my eyes and dropped down my cheeks before I realised. Merlin's arms were around me instantly, and I curled against him. He stroked my hair and shushed me, while cried out feelings I didn't understand. I tried to assemble my thoughts, tried to work out where this rush of emotion had come from.

As I came to an answer, I calmed down, and my breaths came easier. No one had told me they missed me since before I came to Albion. I sat up and wiped the snot and tears from my face. "How was he?" I asked.

"Angry." Merlin replied softly. "And scared. He kept changing between hating you for walking out and grieving because we thought you'd died. Things were different without you." The idea of Will hating me stung, but it was no less than I deserved.

I chewed my nail. "And your mother?"

"She's well. She worried a lot for you when you left, but you know her. She carried on. Kept us fed and out of trouble, kept the whole village fed and out of trouble really." The corner of my mouth tugged up at that. I had innumerable memories of Hunith sending me round to someone's house with food, or hearing her yelling at various people's children to stop playing in the crops. She mothered the entire village.

"I always meant to write." I told him.

"Then, why didn't you?"

"It's complicated." I paused. "And unforgivable."

Merlin seemed to accept that as an answer, and we sat in silence. I couldn't think of a way of asking him why he'd come to Camelot without sounding accusatory. I had endless questions about Will, too, but I knew I'd forfeited the right to talk about him when I left. I'd just settled on asking him how he knew Gaius, but he spoke first.

"You've changed." I didn't answer, waiting for an elaboration. "There's something about you. Like you're colder."

I snorted before I could stop myself. "I just cried for the first time in forever on you, and you think I'm cold?"

"If you've not cried since you were in Ealdor, yes." That shut me up. "Are you the same person?"

"No. Are you?"

He hesitated. "No."

"Do you think we can still be friends?" I asked, putting more faith in him than myself.

"We can at least try." I smiled and nodded, more tears blurring my vision. "You should write to Will."

"No. No way." Merlin's eyebrow raised. "I'm not about dragging up the past. It's been, a year. I'm not going to ask him to destroy whatever peace he's made with me being gone. I don't have a good enough reason." The conversation fell into awkward silence again. "I should go," I began. I didn't have a follow-up excuse. Merlin nodded, and stood to get the door for me. I'd half hoped he'd ask me to stay a while longer. I couldn't manage saying goodbye, so I took his hand in mine, gave it a gentle squeeze, and left.

* * *

><p>I woke to a heavy chest. There was a brief few seconds where I told myself that if I got out of bed then, I'd be fine. But I rarely listened to myself. It took too long to assemble the motivation and energy to get out of bed before the clouds rolled into my mind and took up residence. <em>Cloudy.<em> That was how I'd always described it to Will.

I hated days like this, hated them with a violent passion, a passion that never seemed to be there until I was okay. I rolled over, drawing my blanket up over my shoulder as I did so, and brought my knees up to my chest. I could feel the tears behind my eyes already. I'd never understand days like this. Never understand why getting up was the hardest thing to do. Never understand the very clear feeling, in amongst all the clouds, that if I got up and started doing _something_ I'd be fine.

It felt almost as though I was indulging it. But who in their right mind would indulge this crushing apathy punctuated by tears that had no cause? I guess I _wasn't_ in my right mind. I just wanted to sleep again, but every time I closed my eyes I ended up crying. My head felt woolly, but empty at the same time. I lay on my side, staring blankly at the wall. There was a hairline crack, just above eye-level, running all the way up the wall to the ceiling. I sat up and began tracing it with my fingertip, up as far as I could reach. It became almost obsessive, until I was interrupted by a loud rapping on my door. I started, my hand dropping from my wall into my lap.

"Just a second!" I yelled, scrambling out of bed and throwing a cloak over myself. I crossed to the door barefoot, grimacing at the cold stone. Gwen was smiling at me when I opened it. "You're my favourite person in the world right now." I told her. I was out of bed. That was half the battle.

She laughed and shook her head. "You say the strangest things." She had a cloth sack in her hands. I eyed it up suspiciously.

"What's that?"

"Erm," she smiled brightly at me again. "Maybe, possibly clothes for the palace."

I knew what she was asking, but couldn't resist making her say it. "What's wrong with the clothes I normally wear to the palace?"

"They're not entirely… servant's clothes?" I let out an exasperated laugh. She held out the bag, her face pleading me in the most adorable way possible. "Please? Maria's sick, and I know you hate it and I wouldn't ask, and-"

"Gwen, it's fine. I'm happy to. Honestly." I took the bag from her. She thanked me, several times, before leaving to let me change.

* * *

><p>I was tasked with cleaning. Naively I told myself that wouldn't be so bad, but three hours later, I was on my hands and knees scrubbing the floor of the King's private dining quarters with a bucket of icy water and what may have once been a brush, but more resembled a lump of wood with a few hairs sticking out of it. Still, it was better than how my day had begun. And it was a workout, of sorts.<p>

The floor was filthy, the frequent cracks in the grouting drinking up the water and spitting out spiders that scuttled away from the offending liquid. There was very little time before the water in the bucket to turn a swirling, sediment-rich brown. I stood and stretched for the thousandth time, then grabbed the bucket and made my way outside. I tipped the foul water into the moat, then wandered to the well in the lower town. There were plenty much closer to the castle, but it was another strangely warm day for the time of year and I wanted to feel the sun on my skin.

Torvyn crossed to me as I was pulling the bucket up from the well, and once he stopped laughing at my uniform and the sour expression I wore to match, put a small bag holding thirty arrowheads in my hand, "Payment," he told me with a wink.

I sloped off back to the castle, cold water sloshing about in the bucket and chilling my fingers with every splash. The upper town was looking festive, part of Uther's celebrations no doubt. There was bunting criss-crossed above the market stalls, even Tom's forge was looking more colourful than usual. The castle, by comparison, was bare. It had never not felt cool and empty to me. Pale stone walls, with high windows that let in too much light. It was so unlike Cenred's castle. The gloomy darkness of his corridors gave the building a comforting depth. It gave places to hide. Camelot Castle made me feel exposed.

My journey took me up a flight of stairs, leading me round a corner. I ended up face to face with Arthur. He guffawed when he looked at me. I rolled my eyes and pushed past him, a paranoid uncertainty creeping into my mind.

"Yesterday you were a marksman!" The Prince called behind me. I stopped and begrudgingly turned towards him. He sauntered up to me, speaking as he did so. "Today, you're a servant. What might we expect of tomorrow?"

"Whatever helps me pay the taxes that keep you so cosy, _sire_." I spat. I knew it was foolish to antagonise Arthur, but he grated on my nerves like no other could.

"I could have you in the stocks for that."

"You could. But then you would also have to explain to the King why the floor of his dining quarters wasn't clean when he came to eat." I barely gave him a second to respond, opting to leave the situation, with a quick bow and a muttered _My lord_.

I returned to my duties with a vague feeling of satisfaction. Admittedly, I'd had better moments of putting Arthur in his place, but this was still as enjoyable. _'Every little helps.' _Chirruped an upbeat voice in my mind. I frowned. I knew that from somewhere. Something came before it. Something from home, that I'd forgotten. My satisfied feeling was washed away, replaced by one of irritation.

I pushed the thought away. Memories of home never got me anywhere. I opted for thinking of Merlin instead. I thought of how, after everything, he still held me, still comforted me the way he used to. It felt weird. So much about myself had changed, I assumed it was the same for him, yet our old dynamic was still very much there. Crow had once told me that people could never be trusted, they were too unpredictable, but Merlin's behaviour contradicted that. I _could _trust him, in the very least, I could expect him to be there for me. Maybe I shouldn't expect it. Maybe that's what made it unpredictable. Unpredictable predictability.

I wanted to see him. I wanted to show off to him. _Look at all the skills I've acquired! Look at how I've grown! I can look after myself now, you see? Just like I said I always would._ I craved acknowledgement. There was a desperation inside of me for someone to tell me they were proud of what I'd accomplished. Fletcher had been good for that, but he was long gone. Crow, too, had praised me plenty, but he was even less accessible than my old master. It left a bitter ache, the feeling that no matter how well I did, there would be no one to understand.

Unfortunately, seeing Merlin was out of the question anyway. I had floors to scrub, and by the time I'd finished, the wintery sun would be setting. The arrowheads in my pocket made me conscious that I still owed Torvyn fresh game, and I was running out of time to shoot it. Luck, however, was on my side, and Gwen relieved me of my duties early. Morgana was suffering nightmares again, and had dismissed Guinevere so that she might rest.

Gwen had come to me suggesting that I speak to Amicia if I needed more work. The knowing smile on her face and the slight tilt to her head as she said it told me she knew I'd be ripping off the castle uniform as soon as I could.

I headed straight to my house to do just that. I'd barely set foot in the palace courtyard, when my name was called. I turned to meet Sir Leon with mild surprise. "Do you know where Guinevere is?"

"King's dining quarters, whyyy?"

"I'm going home, I wanted to say goodbye to her."

"Oh right," I didn't want to be rude, but I was itching to grab my bow and head into the forest. "Well, have fun. Safe trip there and back, et cetera," he frowned at that but I didn't pause long enough for him to ask about it. "I'll see you sometime soon?" I held out my hand to him.

He took it with a smile. "Soon."

* * *

><p>I returned from my hunt with a good haul. Two rabbits, one pheasant and a few handfuls of horehound to take to Gaius. It wasn't much, but he might appreciate it given the rising number of headcolds in the lower town. I dropped the rabbits with one of Amicia's kitchen hands, then made my way up the tower to Gaius'.<p>

He gave the dead pheasant I was carrying a very disapproving look. "It's not the pheasant's fault it's dead." I told him. I handed him the herbs. "Got you a present."

"Ah! Thank you, but you needn't have." He was searching the crowded shelves of his room for a jar to put them in. "I had Merlin fetch me some this morning."

"Oh, ew, is he being useful now?" I asked, sliding onto a bench and watching Gaius. "He'll make me redundant."

"You're already doing that yourself." I got a whack on the arm. "I know you knew it was Wednesday."

"Aw come on! It was just a joke!"

"And would it have been a joke if I'd missed giving Sir Olwin his weekly tonic?" The Physician scolded me. I took his point and bowed my head. I still wasn't great at being told off.

"Where's Merlin?"

"Resting. He got into another fight with Arthur again." A bowl of broth and bread appeared in front of me.

"You really don't have to," I told Gaius, ripping up the bread and dunking it in the food. "I never seem to cook for myself anymore." He sat across from me, smiling but with an eyebrow raised. I unashamedly stuffed a chunk of bread in my mouth. "Why was he fighting with Arthur? It's not like him."

"And how is that you would know that?"

I faltered for a moment, masking my hesitation by slowly, deliberately tearing the bread to pieces. Gaius was trustworthy, I knew that, and I was sure that he'd refrain judgement until he'd heard me out, but still… I was starting to feel unravelled. I couldn't keep track of the truths and lies I'd told, I wasn't sure where to doctor my story so that- should people talk about me, questions wouldn't be raised. I'd acted on impulse to tell Leon as much of the truth as I dared, could I do the same with Gaius? Would it be safe?

"I lived in Ealdor. A while back. So, I knew Merlin, and his mother, and quite a lot of people really."

"Interesting, considering you came to Camelot with severe amnesia."

I knew telling him was a bad idea. "I… uh… I lied."

"Why?" He was doing the damned eyebrow thing again.

"_Because_. I was ashamed of my past. Can we leave it there?"

On cue, Merlin came out of his room. The tension between Gaius and I dissipated as Merlin sat next to me and dragged my broth in front of him. I watched him from the corner of my eye, trying to keep my expression indignant and stern. He had a few mouthfuls of the soup before grabbing at my bread. I slapped his hand away, and he slapped back, a daring grin on his face. I slapped him again, knowing I'd regret it. His eyes flashed amber and I shot backwards off the bench, landing hard on my back.

"_Merlin!_" Gaius roared, but I could barely hear it over my own short-of-breath laughter_. _Just like old times_._ I pulled myself to my feet, and snatched the bread from the table. I split it in half, and gave one piece to Merlin, taking the other for my own and dunking it in the broth. Gaius gave Merlin his own bowl and for a while there was silence but for the sound of metal spoons scraping on wooden bowls.

I'd skipped lunch that day, and my stomach met the food with appreciative gurgles. Needless to say, I finished long before Merlin and Gaius. Merlin, very sweetly, offered me some of his bread soaked in broth but I declined, pouring us all tankards of water instead. I sipped mine slowly, finishing the drink as Merlin was swallowing the last spoonful of his dinner. It seemed like a polite enough time to excuse myself, and so I did, thanking Gaius for the meal.

Merlin walked me to the door, even hugged me goodbye. I stopped for a moment before leaving.

"Listen to Gaius." I murmured. "It's fine when it's just us, but if _anyone_ discovers you have magic, there's nothing we can do to help you. Uther is a fanatic, and not in a good way." He went to protest, but I stopped him before he could begin. "I _know_ that it's not fair. I'm sorry." There was nothing more to say than that, really. "Goodnight."

I stopped at Torvyn's to drop off the pheasant. He invited me in for dinner, which I declined, but we chatted a while about the upcoming tournament. Word had spread far and wide in the three days since the festival had been announced. Ravens had been sent to every city in every kingdom, and men-at-arms, mercenaries, and marksmen were flooding into the city. Torvyn was busier than he had been all month. "Might need you tomorrow lass," he teased.

"So might Amicia," I replied. "I'm very in demand at the moment."

"At least I'll know where to find you," he didn't even miss a beat. I smiled ruefully, too tired to be enthused by the idea of more work in the morning.

That, however, completely changed after a night's sleep. I practically bounced my way to the forge, pulling a heavy apron and taking up a hammer before I'd even greeted Torvyn. He laughed when he saw me.

"You can put that down." He said gesturing at the hammer.

"Aw," I pouted. It had been optimistic to try. The hammer was taken from me, and a blunted sword placed in my hand. "You know," I took my place at the grindstone, "if you don't let me try, I'll never learn."

"I'll let you try," there was a pause and a hissing as Torvyn dunked hot iron into cool water. "When the forge is a bit quieter. You don't half pick your moments, lass."

"If I was any less awkward, you wouldn't love me."

We fell into silence, concentrating on the work at hand. Occasionally someone would come to Torvyn and ask for his services- usually shield repair. The odd patron that needed their blades sharpening was directed towards me. I often found myself looking up at slightly bemused gazes that didn't know how to respond to my presence other than by adding their sword to the pile on the floor. Camelot was a very different world Ealdor. I took comfort in the fact that at least nobody dared comment when the mountain that was Torvyn stood behind me.

That was of course, nobody but Arthur. I didn't realise he was there until he shoved his steel under my nose. I had started to explain that there was a queue of swords I'd yet to sharpen, but then I looked up and bit my tongue. To his credit, he didn't mock me this time.

"I need this sharpened."

"You're not the only one," I nudged the small pile of swords with my foot. Arthur pulled the blade back, and flipped the sword so that the handle was facing me.

"Please?"

Begrudgingly, I took it. I was just waiting for him to make a snide quip about my working at the forge. "Why haven't you taken it to Tom?"

"He has my armour. I'm trying to be efficient." He gave me a pointed look, and I realised that I'd just been lamely holding the sword above the stone. I quickly set to sharpening it.

"You're not going to blunt it before tomorrow are you?" I didn't know why I was making conversation with him.

"No, I'm done with training for the day. Should I be expecting you to compete?"

"I'm not a knight."

"No you're not. Yet still you train like one." I glanced up at him, ready to snap, but he was smiling at me.

"I don't understand." I admitted my confusion, flipping the sword and honing the other side.

"You're a talented fighter, if not a bit impetuous." He paused. "And your footwork's all over the place, really. You need to let me sort that out." The words came out so quickly, so casually it took more than a few seconds to register.

"Are you offering-?"

"I've never been one to say women can't fight." The Prince cut me off. I faltered for too long a moment to resume the conversation. I merely bowed my head and continued my work. Once I deemed it finished, I exchanged the weapon with Arthur for a bag of gold. He thanked me as he sheathed it, then gave me a curt nod and left.

I stood, dusting my apron off, not quite sure what to make of the conversation. I scooped the pouch up and took it inside to lock safely in the strongbox. Arthur had massively overpaid me, but I wouldn't complain. I wouldn't accept payment from Torvyn either, I resolved, he didn't need to pay me when I was learning.

I informed the blacksmith of this when he told me it was time to pack up. The sun had dropped beyond the horizon, and the subsequent cool air had chilled my fingers to immobility.

"You're useless to me now," Torvyn teased me as I warmed my hands over the forge. "Come back tomorrow though, doubtless we'll be busy." I hugged him goodbye and headed home.

My house was just coming into view when I realised that I'd not heard from Amicia all day. Sighing to myself, I turned and walked back towards the castle. The winter air was settling in my body far too quickly, my toes feeling like blocks of ice more than anything else.

The heat of the kitchen was welcome relief and the first thing I did was scoop some boiling water into a tankard. I wandered through the chaos, blowing on the steaming mug of water until it was cool enough to drink. The water was warm as it slipped down my throat, I could feel it hitting my empty belly. There was a slight chickeny aftertaste left in my mouth.

It didn't take too long to spot Amicia, red faced and muttering to herself. I made a beeline for her. As ever, she barely acknowledged me, not even when I told her that I'd accidentally drank the water she was boiling chicken it. "If you get ill, you get ill." She grumbled.

I set my tankard down. "Do you want help?"

"No."

Her response was curt, and for a second I was muted by it. "Have I done something wrong?"

"No." Her eyes were darting around the kitchen, not looking at me. I was starting to worry. She seemed to realise- she stopped stirring and looked at me with a soft expression. "We're just a bit manic because of the feast. We have enough people doing everything that needs doing, just not enough time. Go home, rest, you look exhausted." I didn't know how to respond. "Before I forget," she grabbed my hand and pulled me into a side room. She counted out some gold coins from a strong box and pressed them into my hands. "I paid your friend, but not you. I'm despicable."

I grinned at her. "Never."

"Go on, fuck off. Take some more water from the boiled chicken if you must."

I poked my tongue out at her, then retraced my steps back home.


End file.
